You Shouldn't Have To Say Goodbye Part 5

"Tell you what. How about if you take off from school to do it with me?"

"Really?" I squealed and jumped out of the chair, spilling magazines all over the place.

"Why not? You're a good student, so you wouldn't miss much."

"What would I tell my teachers?"

"Why would we have to tell them anything but the truth?"

"That I took two days off to paint with my mother? I couldn't do that. It would be an unexcused absence, and I'd get F's for the entire two days' work."

"Unexcused absence?" Mom had a puzzled look on her face.

"Yeah, the only way you get an excused absence is if you're sick or have a doctor's appointment, or sometimes if you're on a trip with your parents, although even that's a ha.s.sle. You practically have to prove that your parents couldn't take the trip any other time. You know that. It's no problem, though. I'll just tell them I'm sick."

Mom turned back to the wall, and she didn't say anything more, just worked with the putty knife for so long that she must have made the smoothest spot in the whole house.

"Something wrong?" I said finally.

"Not really."

"I don't believe you." I paused. "Is it because I said I'd lie?"

Mom took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. When she spoke, it sounded as though she were measuring every word. "I love you, Sarah, and I want to be with you as much as possible. I want to spend the time with you painting this room, and I'll even lie if I have to in order to get that time. That's not what's bothering me. But something else is bothering me, scaring me, even. You see, I've been feeling so frantic about time, about not having enough time, but lately, the past few days, I'm thinking I might have a lot of time. Plenty of time."

I looked at her, puzzled, not sure what she meant.

"Sarah, I think I might beat this. I think I might get better."

Right then, I wanted her to stop. She had said the one thing I had wanted so much to hear, and if she kept on talking, she might take it back.

"I know you're going to get better. Robin knows it too. We've always known." I was lying, but it wasn't a complete lie, and it didn't matter, anyway. "Come on, what color are we"a" I paused and smiled at hera""we going to paint this room?"

"Yellow. Sun color," she said, laughing, but there were tears in her eyes at the same time. "Sun yellow." She began laughing harder, and I looked at her quickly because there was something odd about her laugh, almost hysterical. After a minute, though, she took a deep, trembly breath, wiped her eyes, and stopped laughing. "They don't think so, you know. The doctors don't think so, but every time I go in for a test, they're amazed how well I'm doing. I went in today, and they couldn't believe how well I was."

"I told you. I know!" I said. "I know you're going to be all right. And we're going to paint this room sun color. For Christmas. And for spring."

Mom laughed then, but it was a regular laugh, not like that nervous one before. "Wait till Daddy comes home and sees this mess."

I laughed too, because Daddy was always having a fit when Mom suddenly took it into her head to do things around the house, like the time she moved every single piece of furniture in every room. "Should we tell him he has to help too?" I asked.

"No way," Mom said. "He's a bear about things like that. That's why I do it myself. But I'll tell you what." She looked at her watch. "He'll be home in a minute. How about if we ask him to take us to the paint store?"

I laughed again. "Okay, we'll meet him in the driveway and tell him we're hitching a ride."

"Get your coat," Mom said.

I got mine, and she took hers from the closet, then stopped in front of the mirror in the front hall, wiping smudges of s.p.a.ckle and paint chips from her face and hair. "I look a wreck," she said.

"You look great." I smiled at her, and she grinned back and put an arm around my shoulder.

The two of us went down the driveway to the street. "Should we go to the paint store?" Mom said. "Or should we take off for California?"

"California, for sure," I answered. "But the paint store first."

We sat down on the curb then, pretending we really were hitchhikers, talking about things the way we always used to talk, about maybe really taking a trip to California the next summer. And when Daddy drove up, we were still sitting there, and like real hitchhikers, we stuck out our thumbs.

DADDY TOOK US TO THE PAINT STORE, ALTHOUGH HE thought we were weird for sitting on the curb in the dark. Later we all went to McDonald's for dinner. While we were there, we made a plan: Mom and I would paint the morning room together; Daddy would put up the outside lights and set up the tree. On Sat.u.r.day, the Sat.u.r.day before Christmas, we would have a party. It would be a grownups' party and kids' party, too, and each of us would invite some friends. There weren't many people I wanted to invite, just Robin and maybe Julia from gymnastics. But Mom and Daddy planned to invite lots of people, their best friendsa"the Arnolds and the Hardings and the Steinersa"and lots of others, including Daddy's partner, Mr. Alden, and his wife. That didn't make me happy because Mr. Alden is a fake, has that phony, super-friendly way of talking, but I guessed I wouldn't have to talk to him much, anyway.

The next week flew by. I took the days off to paint with Mom, and we worked from morning till dark. It was fun. Finally, it was Sat.u.r.day, the morning of the party, and I woke early to the smell of coffee and pancakes. I sat up, reached out to my bedside table, got a book, and took it to bed with me. A Sat.u.r.day morning with a good book in bed, my parents downstairs, and the house warm and nice made me happier than anything else in the world. I lay back to enjoy it, but it lasted only a minute. I was just too excited to stay in bed, so I got up, put on my robe, and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Daddy was at the stove, wearing that big blue ap.r.o.n he wears when he cooks. He smiled at me as I came in. "Hey, Punkin, you're up early for a Sat.u.r.day."

"Too excited to sleep. Besides, it smells so good."

"'Cause I'm an A-number-one cook."

"Yup. Where's Mom?"

"Still sleeping. She was tired. All that painting you two have been doing was hard work."

"Yeah, but doesn't the room look pretty?"

"I love it." Daddy grinned at me. "Especially since I didn't have to paint it."

I sat down at the kitchen counter. Daddy poured a big gla.s.s of orange juice for me, filled it with ice the way I like it, and handed it to me. He started to turn back to the stove, then stopped, came back and sat beside me, his arms folded on the counter. He turned toward the window with a faraway look in his eyes. "You know what, Sarah?"

"What?"

"I think I'm about as happy today as I've ever been in my life."

He looked happy too, and I smiled at him. "Yeah," I said. "I know it's going to be a good party. Lots of food, and lots ofa""

"Friends," Daddy interrupted, as though he knew what I was going to say. "Good food and good friends and a wonderful party, a Christmas party." Although he still wasn't looking at me, I was suddenly startled, because I thought there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Daddy?"

"What?" But he didn't turn to me.

"Uh, why don't we take Mom breakfast in bed?"

"Oh, good idea!" Daddy stood up and looked right at me, and if there were tears before, they were gone now. "You get a tray ready, and I'll finish the pancakes."

Together, we made a big tray of food for Mom and some pancakes for Daddy and me, too, so Mom wouldn't have to eat upstairs all by herself. While Daddy did the pancakes, I went to the morning room and cut a little twig from the Christmas tree, hung a tiny, s.h.i.+ny Christmas ball on it, and put it in a vase on the tray. I used cloth napkins too, green ones for Christmas, and when we had it all ready, we went upstairs, me carrying the tray, Daddy carrying the coffee and hot pancakes.

We tiptoed into Mom's room and put the tray and coffee pot on her bedside table. "Good morning!" I said. "Wake up. Room service!"

Daddy went to the windows and pulled up the blinds, letting in the cold, winter light. With the room suddenly bright like that, I could see Mom lying on her back in the bed, unmoving. "Mom? Mom!"

I must have sounded frightened because in an instant Daddy was at my side. Both of us were looking at Mom. I looked up at Daddy then, fear making my throat tight, but he was just smiling down at Mom. "She sure can sleep," he said softly.

"How do you know she's asleep?"a"I wanted to say it, but didn't. I looked back at Mom. "The way you can tell she's sleeping," I told myself, "is that the blankets are moving up and down, nice and regular, up and down, just the way they're supposed to. Dummy." I swallowed hard, letting the fear ease away, feeling stupid for being scared. Sitting down on the bed then, I shook Mom's arm, but I kept my face turned away from Daddy so he wouldn't know how stupid I'd been and what dumb things I'd been thinking.

When I took Mom's arm, her eyes opened and instantly she smiled at me. "Well." She took a deep breath, and wrapped an arm around my waist. "What's the meaning of waking me up so early?" she said.

"The meaning is breakfast," I announced. I stood up, picked up the tray then, and held it out in front of her.

"Ooh!" Mom smiled and struggled to a sitting position. "Am I hungry!"

"Me too."

It took a few minutes to serve the pancakes and pour the syrup, but eventually we were ready. Daddy took his plate and sat in the chair beside the bed, and I took mine and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. Mom had the tray set up in front of her, all to herself. We ate quietly for a while, and I was surprised at how hungry I was. Mom must have been hungry too, because she ate practically everything on her plate. After a while, she looked up at Daddy and me. "Know what?" she said.

"What?"

"I think this is the happiest day of my whole life."

I laughed and looked at Daddy, expecting him to tell Mom what he had just told me downstairs, but he was only smiling at Mom, so I didn't say anything, either, but I thought, "Me too."

The rest of the day was a madhouse. The phone rang constantly, and the caterer brought the food and chairs. A florist came with the flowers for the hall table and a centerpiece for the dining room table. Mom, Daddy, and I made hors d'oeuvres and set out plates and silverware, and Daddy laid a fire in the fireplace. It had begun to snow a little, and I was both excited and scareda"excited because it was the first snowfall of the year, and scared because if it snowed too hard, people couldn't come.

I thought of Grandpa and Grandma then. Grandpa especially loved the snow. I wished so much they could be here, but they had both come down with the flu. Grandpa had written and told me to save him a s...o...b..ll if it snowed. I knew he was fooling, but I ran outside anyway, made him a s...o...b..ll and came back and put it in the freezer.

I ran back and forth to the window all day, checking, but although the sky was gray and heavy, the snow just fell lightly. By six o'clock, when we went upstairs to get dressed, there was only about an inch covering the gra.s.s and trees, piling up in little crests on the railing out front.

I didn't have to think about what I was going to wear. Robin and Julia and I had already planned ita"our best jeans and pretty s.h.i.+rts. I was going to wear my favorite blue velour. But when I went up to my room, on my bed was a dress: a long red dress with lace at the neck and sleeves and a green velvet ribbon around the waist. It was made of something soft, maybe silk, and when I held it up to me, it came all the way down to the floor. "Mom!" I shouted, and I ran down the hall to her room. "Mom, is this mine? Did you buy this for me?"

Mom was smiling happily. "Uh-huh."

"Oh, it's so beautiful! I love it." I did too, but I didn't know whether I should wear it that night, because Robin and Julia probably didn't have anything even nearly like it.

"It's all right if you don't want to wear it tonight," Mom said, as if she were reading my mind. "I just wanted you to have it. It's so pretty."

"Oh, Mom!" I went to her, hugged her gently, then held the dress up in front of me and danced around. "I want to wear it, but I'm not sure. Oh, what should I do?"

Mom just smiled.

"Robin and Julia will feel dumb if they come in jeans and I'm all dressed up. And it's awfully late to call and ask them to wear something else. "

"Then maybe you'd better not wear it. Save it for Christmas."

"But I want to wear it."

"I know." Mom laughed. "Such problems." She turned to the mirror and began putting on her make-up. I knew she wouldn't give me any more help, so I turned to go back to my room. But for just a second, I watched her in the mirror. She looked good, but something was funny about her skin, or maybe it was her make-up, because she looked sort of tan. Well, maybe not tan, but yellowish, the way you get at the end of summer when your tan is fading. She saw me watching her in the mirror and smiled at me. I smiled back, then went back to my room. I debated for just another second about calling Robin and Julia, but decided that wouldn't be fair. I laid the dress on the bed, spread out the way Mom had it before. I couldn't wait till they came so I could show it to them.

It seemed like forever until the first guest arrived, and when the doorbell rang, I ran to answer it. It was the Arnolds, and they were carrying some wrapped packages. They came in, and hugged me, and gave me a package. Presents? I didn't know I was going to get a present! Before I could open it, the bell rang again, and the Steiners came in and then the Hardings, all of them stamping snow from their feet. I was busy taking coats and saying h.e.l.lo to everybody. Then Robin and Julia arrived together, and they both looked so pretty in their soft sweaters that I was happy that I hadn't asked them to change.

It was definitely the best party we ever had, and probably the best party I've ever been to. There was lots to eat and drink and lots of music and noise, and even the grownups were fun to be with. Then late, right before we were to have dinner, someone suggested that we go out Christmas caroling. Everybody agreed it would be fun, so we got out coats and boots and scarfs. Someone got a song book from the piano, and we all went outside. It was snowing harder, and we went to the end of the street, stopping in the cul-de-sac that faces a group of houses. Mr. Alden began singing. "Oh, holy nighta" his voice rang out. For the first time since I've known him, he didn't sound at all fake or super-friendly, just real, and he had a beautiful voice.

The rest of us joined in. "The stars are brightly s.h.i.+ning. It is the night of the deara "

I looked at Mom and Daddy. Mom was s.h.i.+vering a little, the way she always did in the cold, and Daddy had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. They saw me looking at them, and they smiled. Mom made a motion to me to join them, but I just stood watching them, remembering what Daddy had said that morning, remembering what Mom had said and how I had echoed it in my mind. I wondered if they were thinking it tooa" "This must be the happiest day of my life."

SUNDAY WAS A LONG, QUIET DAY. THE SNOW HAD STOPPED during the night, and in the morning a pale sun came out, making a white ring in the heavy sky. There were about eight inches of snow on the ground, and although I thought it would be fun to go out in it, I was tired after being up until two o'clock the night before. Mom was tired too and thought she might be coming down with a cold or flu, because her arms and legs were hurting a lot. Most of the day she stayed in bed, and Daddy sat in a chair beside her, reading the Sunday papers, while I lay on the floor between them looking at the comics. For a while, it was very comfortable and quiet.

We talked about the party, about how everybody looked and who made the funniest jokes, and about how good the food was. Mom and Daddy talked about who said what to whom. Around three o'clock, Mom said she wanted to take a nap, and I was getting bored. I put on my heavy clothes, and went out in the snow for a while.

When I came in, Daddy made dinnera"mostly leftovers from the partya"and Mom came downstairs to eat, still wearing her robe. She said her legs were still hurting, and I thought again how yellow she looked, but I didn't say anything. Then, right after dinner, we went upstairs to our rooms and to bed.

Next morning, I got up quickly, dressed, breakfasted, and said good-bye to Daddy even before Mom was up. I was anxious to get to school early because that was the day of the gymnastics show and the last day before school closed for the Christmas holidays. The teachers excused kids who were in the show from all cla.s.ses so we could have one final rehearsal. Robin and I went through our routine again. We had worked really hard, and we knew we had the best routine in the show. It had two parts, the floor routine and the ropes. On the floor, we did rolls, cartwheels, backward walkovers, and one midair flip each while we spotted each other in case one of us fell. On the ropes, we raced up and down, switching ropes halfway up. In one part, we dangled by our legs.

There was only one thing that worried me: Robin hadn't said anything in a long time about chinning off the cross bar, yet I knew her well enough to know she hadn't forgotten about it. I was afraid to ask, though, because if by some chance she had forgotten, mentioning it would remind her. I just prayed that she had decided not to do it, because if she did it in the show, she'd be in real trouble.

On the way home, we discussed again what we would wear that night, because we wanted to dress exactly alike. We decided to wear white shorts, our white Adidas s.h.i.+rts with red trim, and short white socks with red b.a.l.l.s on them. We parted at the corner and agreed to meet at the gym at six-thirty, long before anyone else, so we could have one last practice.

When I got home and opened the door, the odor of the Christmas tree greeted me and I breathed in deeply. Christmas everywhere. "I'm home, Mom!" I shouted.

There was no answer. I listened for the typewriter from her office, but it was silent.

"Mom?" I opened the door. "Mom?"

No Mom, not at her desk anyway. I raced up the stairs. "Please don't be in bed," I prayed. "Mom?" I went in the bedroom, but she wasn't there, and the bed was made, smooth and neat.

I ran downstairs, my heart beginning to pound hard, and into the kitchen to look at the blackboard. Maybe she had gone shopping and had left me a note that I hadn't seen. There was no note on the blackboard. "Mom!" I shouted again, and suddenly I was angry. "Mom!" Where was she? Why was she scaring me like this? "MOM!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I went to the garage, checking. Her car was still there, so maybe she had just gone for a walk in the snow or to visit a neighbor. But I knew she'd never do that on a workday.

Back inside, I stood in the kitchen, listening silently, as though if I were very quiet, I could hear where she was. The only sounds were the clock on the wall, ticking loudly, and the smooth hum of the refrigerator. It all reminded me of the first day Mom had gone to the hospital, and I knew suddenly that that was where she was now. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.

I picked up the phone and dialed Daddy's number at work. His secretary, Mrs. Corrigan, answered, and I used the most grown-up voice I had. "Is Mr. Morrow there?" I asked.

There was just the tiniest pause. "Is this Sarah?" she asked.

"Yes, it is."

"Oh." Another pause, and then she said, "No, your Daddy isn't here right now. Uh, where are you?"

"Home."

"Oh, can you wait a minute?"

"Okay."

She went away from the phone, and I could hear quiet talk in the background. In a few seconds Mr. Alden came on the phone. "Well, h.e.l.lo, Sarah!" he said, and his old hearty-fake voice was back.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Alden. Is my father there?"

"No, he's not. Sarah, are you at home?"